Mad
by MellaBrooke
Summary: Ron can't stand it when Harry's mad. Ron/Harry Oneshot.


_"I know sometimes it's gonna rain. But baby, can we make up now 'cause I can't sleep through the pain? I don't wanna go to bed mad at you. And I don't want you to go to bed mad at me_."

**A/N: Um, I just threw this together in an hour. What an accomplishment, right? Ha! I'm so excited though, I don't even care that it's rushed. I haven't written in so long and I've missed my dear fanfiction so much! So, hey, here it is. Inspired by Ne-Yo. **

**Oh, and I'm sorry if they're a little O/C. I just had this image in my head... and I really wanted to try to convey it... **

**AND, disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter. Or this song. But I will be going to WWoHP in July! :D Love you guys!**

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I could feel his emerald eyes burning into me from where he sat on the sofa. He was still mad. Extraordinarily mad. I could feel the anger radiating from the living room to where I sat in the kitchen.

For the hundredth time that night, I sighed. I couldn't even enjoy the treacle tart on my plate because of him and his mood swings. And if anyone could tell you anything about me, it would be that 'Ronald Weasley always enjoys eating. Always.'

Yet it was hard to enjoy anything when Harry was upset - especially when he was upset with me. Luna said that it was probably wrackspurts wrecking havoc on his brain, but I knew he was just moody and insecure - almost to the point that I might've accused him of being part woman.

Anyway, it's ridiculous (and his fault, might I add) that we're even in this situation to begin with.

We were having a pretty good night earlier, laughing and fooling around. I even thought that maybe tonight would be the night I'd finally get to ask him to bond with me (huge deal for wizards, by the way).

But, bloody hell, I was wrong about that one.

As soon as Hermione showed up for our ritual double date-night without George, I had a feeling things weren't going to go as I had anticipated initially.

Don't get me wrong, things were going fine... Until Harry excused himself to go to the loo. That was when Hermione completely broke down right in front of my eyes.

She threw herself into my arms and cried, mumbling something about George proposing to her and her telling him no. It was hard to be oblivious to how upset she was. And even if I did have "the emotional range of a teaspoon," I wasn't a heartless git. Quickly searching my brain for what to do in this situation, I wrapped my arms around her and patted her back soothingly - like one would a sister.

It was in this exact not-at-all compromising position that Harry found us moments later.

At his footsteps, Hermione visably stiffened. Probably for a much different reason than I did.

Pulling back, she turned to look up at Harry. Her mascara was smeared and her face was wet. She looked worse than she had when she had found out I was dating Lavendar.

We were all silent for a few more seconds before she quickly got to her feet. Apparently she felt the tension, too.

"I've got to go," she said, her voice breaking as the tears began to renew themselves.

And then, without another goodbye, she swept up and out of our flat as if she had never been there.

As soon as the door slammed, I swallowed hard. I knew that look on Harry's face. After all, we'd had plenty of similar arguments before.

"So," he began, his voice hard. "When exactly were you going to tell me?"

I paused for a moment, trying to think of a response that wouldn't make him hex me into next month.

"What exactly am I supposed to be telling you?"

His lips tightened. Never a good sign.

"That you're leaving me for Hermione," he replied calmly - another bad sign.

I rolled my eyes at that one. I'd tried that once. And both Hermione and I had known why it hadn't worked. We didn't work as a couple because I was madly in love with my other best friend. The dolt currently accusing me of leaving him for my brother's girlfriend.

"You can't be serious," I said finally, my astonishment coupling with my exasperation.

Harry didn't say anything in response to my reply, he merely glared in my direction. Clearly he was serious.

"Harry, I'm not leaving you for Hermione."

His ebony brow arched at that one. "Oh? Then why was she all cuddled up against you, Ron? Tell me how long I was out of the room before you flung yourselves at one another. Two seconds? One?"

I felt a vein in my head throb at that. He was being ridiculous... but there was no way I could tell him that.

Instead, I sighed. "She was just upset about George. I was just trying to make her feel better."

"By feeling her up?" He scoffed.

I thought back to the muggle television show Harry often made me watch trying to remember what the medical diagnosis was for what I was feeling right now. After a few moments of intense thought, I remembered. Aneurysm.

"Well?" he proded, obviously upset with my silence.

I looked up at him. "I'm not fighting with you about this, Harry. You're being insecure."

I flinched the second after the words left his mouth. And, to his credit, Harry just stared in shock.

It was at this moment that I took advantage of the silence and walked past him into the kitchen. Dinner had been atleast an hour ago and that treacle tart had looked delicious.

But, as I told you before, I couldn't even enjoy it.

Once I had left the living room, Harry's face scrunched into a scowl and he made his way to sit on the sofa I had just vacated. He was upset with me.

Which brings us to where we are now. Him sitting in the living room, mulling over possible hexes, and me, trying to remember why we were fighting.

After a few more moments of toying with the idea of eating the dessert just for spite, I stood and turned to enter the living room again.

I couldn't stand when he was mad at me. Even if he was being an idiot git, I would be the first one to apologize if it meant he would be curled up against me in bed tonight. I liked the way his legs felt tangled with mine way too much to let him stay angry.

"Harry?" I began tentively.

His eyes softened a bit. He knew an apology was coming. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

I sighed. He wanted me to be specific? Fine.

"I'm sorry that you're under the impression I'm leaving you for Hermione," I replied. "I'm sorry that you obviously can't remember how much I love you. I'm sorry that I have to postpone asking you to bond with me for another month because you're being an insecure git."

Okay, well, I had tried to apologize. That was something, right?

At first it looked like his anger had returned, but once he heard the last bit, his expression changed. It looked like he was about to cry. Shit.

I rushed over to the sofa and wrapped my arms around him. "I didn't mean to make you cry," I hurriedly assured him. "I really am sorry. Merlin, just forgive me. I won't look at Hermione ever again."

Harry's small hand pushed me away enough so he could look up into my eyes. "It's not that, you git."

My ginger brow furrowed. "Then what is it? What did I do?"

There were tears in his eyes, but his lips were pulled into a smile. "You want to bond with me?"

The relief on my face would've been evident to a blind man. "Of course, you daft slag. You're the only person I want for the rest of my life."

He beamed at that and, in response to his joy, I couldn't help but do the same. That is until he pinned me to the back of the couch in a heated kiss, which somehow ended with both of us completely naked and in our bed, breathing heavily. Not that I was complaining. I loved falling asleep in post-coitus bliss with him by my side.

"Ron?" Harry said softly, testing to see if I was still awake.

I made a soft sound, letting him know I was awake, but not for much longer.

"I love you."

And, like the sentimental bloke I am, I kissed the top of his head and repeated the sentiment with just as much reverance.

Because even when he was insecure and even when we fought, I still loved him just as much as I loved eating. Maybe even more.

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